Or shall I say "the entitlements?" Yesterday, I went with my hostess to French Nails in Plymouth, MA to get a pedicure. If anyone has been following my novel or my posts (Chapter 8 "Of Men and Feet" from my novel COMFORT), you know I had my very own Foot Slave for 17 years. I neglected to mention that he left me a lasting, almost indelible legacy of my very, very own; that being a fungus infection in my right big toe, probably as a result of skin to skin penetration, i.e., my foot into him. Ah love. Ah, fetish. Ah ciclopirox! After trying a variety of "holistic" and/or homemade cures I was left with applying topical ciclopirox, which I've been applying religiously since the beginning of "New York on Pause" more than a year ago. Gee, wouldn't it be great if, with the end of COVID my fungus is cured?! So I'm sitting in the chair, feeling very much like a king with a slave at my feet. Yup, that's me. White man, sitting above 40 something Vietnamese woman. The thing is, you don't really think about it but being White, life gives you a ton of options. Being Vietnamese and being in Plymouth, I mean, there aren't a hell of a lot of real choices in life, are there? Lucky me. Then again some immigrants can channel fresh, ambitious energy and find gold in America. Maybe because they can see all with fresh eyes, not be jaded, downtrodden and cynically lethargic like many older, White Americans. For the new, there is still possibilities; for the old, and income challenged, every month is a game of addition that all adds up the total "Fixed Income Amount."
At the same token being queer I'm definitely an outsider in Marshfield. There doesn't seem to be other queers, they're all in P-town. And the hegemony of heterosexuality here, creates a subliminal taboo for any deviation from that norm. Yesterday I saw a neighbor, a "young daddy" (whom I met last summer) walking his toddler along in her play car. Getting out my the car, I recognized him and his child was looking my way. I waved and said "hello there." The young Daddy dipped his lowered head further and spit. Ah yes, the advantages or entitlements of being white.
I had two IPA beer last night and they didn't taste as good as that same brand I had four nights ago. I drank them because I didn't want to waste them. Stupid. I wonder if I will be drinking the rest of the trip or as beer lost it's edge? Has that "feel good feeling" flown? The ocean was gorgeous last night, wild, wide and black with the low tide stretched to the dark horizon. There were trains and trains of white caps forming, fucking, disappearing. I was hypnotized, like a seabird, practically levitating over the ocean. The Levitate Festival of Arts and Music is happening here next year, 2022. I've never gone. I come here to write, to seek inspiration from the ocean. And rest in the sun. This entry seems forced. I'm writing to create a digital asset. That's stupid too.